News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1887-01-06
PENCIL AGAINST PISTOL.
a Bully Receives Painful and Curious
Lesson from n Quiet Man,

A letter from Chivatito, Chihuahua
saws: One of the notorious characters
of this section is Three -toed Watson,
whose right first name nobody knows,
and whose last name probably was not
Watson in the States, He is one of the
gang called rustlers who keep on the
| edge of civilization and make it morally
ragged. Three-toed Watson came here
with the railroad, and has made him
self unpleasantly conspicuous in all the
free fights and fandango affrays that
have varied the otherwise monotonous
course of things in Chivatito. By
shooting two men, and freely flourish
ing a frontier revolver, Watson has ac-
quired the coveted notoriety of being a
bad man and chief of the camp, and
also established the custom among bar
keepers of never charging HIM anything
for whisky or mescal. When the rail
road went on Three-toed Watson did
not follow with the gang, 1t is not an
easy thing to get acknowledged as chief
in railroad camp, but, having got there,
the privilege of free whisky, free
lunches. and general bosship of the sa-
looms are too valuable to a frontier
tough to be lightly thrown away or
abandoned Watson is very liberal
with his privileges, and never takes a
drink without asking all hands to Join
him. A refusal to drink with him is n
deadly insult, as it conveys TO the mind
of Three-toed Watson the inference
that the person refusing considers him
no gentleman. After recent experience,
however, he probably will not be quite
so pressingly liberal.
Two mining engineers were sitting at
a table in a saloon where the bully was
running things, and when Watson
ordered everybody up to the bar one of
them, German named Winkler, po-
litely declined. Mr.. Watson produced
a ponderous pistol, and, poking the
muzzIe into Winkler's face, he roared !:
"Yer won't drink with me, yer Dutch
tenderfoot! Reckon yer don't know
me- I'm a bowling blizzard of the
perarie, 1 am, and when, I'm turned
loose it's dirty work cleaning up the
ranch. I'm a gentleman, and you'll
drink whisky long O. me or make a soft
seat for the Coroner.
Mr. Winkler shut one eye and squint-
ed into the pistol barrel, and quietly
remarked:
"Well, if you insist, I'm with you"
Getting up from the table he walked
over to the bar and stood beside Wat
son, who fourished the pistol once more
under his rose and then returned it to
the holster. Holding a whisky glass in
his left hand, Winkler took from his
vest pocket draughtsmans six H lead
pencil, shaTpened to a needle point.
r., l. IL
'Look here, sirl You are a bigger
man than l am, and could whip me if
you wanted to without any weapons.
didn't want to drink, but you pulled a
pistol and would have shot me if
hadn't stepped up here. L carry no
arms, you see; nothing but pencil"
Here Winkler poised the pencil, which
he grasped firmly with his right thumb
and fingers, directly opposite Watson's
face, as though to call attention to the
insignificance of his armory and EN-
phasize his remarks, at the same time
looking the bully steadily in the eye.
''Now, want to tell you," he con-
tinued, "that you are an Internal cow
ard and scoundrel, and | can lick you
with lead pencil" and just as the
bully reached for his gun the pencil
darted forward like a flash into his left
eye, the point passing accurately through
the pupil. Three-toed Watson yelled
in agony and fell upon the floor, with
ing and shrieking. Mr.. Winkler put
the pencil back into his vest pocket, re-
placed the untasted whisky upon the
bar, and went out Watson may pull
through if he has luck, but that eye
will be of no more use to him, and his
privileges as bad man are gone.